


Just A Touch Away

by coloursflyaway



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Community: hobbit_kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt and since they just finished filming and I have a lot of feelings about that:</p><p>A sweet, sexy, occasionally cheesy tale spun by a cast member to his lover about how they could disappear into the night together.</p><p>Bonus: He's making the whole thing up while making love to his partner.<br/>Double Bonus: His partner totally gets off on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Touch Away

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/4307.html?thread=13568211#t13568211

Richard twists his fingers deeper and Aidan moans, long and low and in a way which makes Richard think that it should sound filthy, but it doesn’t. Instead, the sound rings clear and sweet in his ears, full of longing and promises and most importantly, love.  
It’s the last day of filming, or rather, has been and the whole day has been tinted with sadness, with the knowledge that in a few, short days, all of this will have been over. And it hurts, but Richard likes to believe that it hurts him even more than the others, that it hurts Aidan more. Because the others have become friends, have become family, but him and Aidan have become lovers, and thinking about a time when the other won’t be the first and the last thing he sees is nothing less than painful.

A few metres away, there is a party going on, a wrap party, and they should be present, but somehow those nights always end in the same way, with him and Aidan curled up on a mattress, safe from the world because of thin metal walls and the quiet peace their breathing brings.  
They’re not there yet, but Richard doesn’t doubt that they will be once he isn’t rocking his hips gently against Aidan’s thigh and the other isn’t arching off the mattress with every thrust of his fingers.

“We could leave together”, he says before he can think about the words, because Aidan is beautiful like this and he has been painting that picture in his mind for such a long time, of just them, locked away somewhere without filming, without other people, without anything, anyone that could distract them from each other.  
Aidan’s eyes fly open, his pupils blown so wide that Richard couldn’t tell what colour his irises have if he didn’t see the colour behind his lids when he closed his eyes. “What?”, the other gasps out, but doesn’t still his hips, which still move to meet the thrust of Richard’s fingers.

There is something about the way Aidan says it, which spurs Richard on, maybe the lack of horror of the thought, maybe the slight hint of hope laced to his voice. And so he continues talking, adds another finger to the three already stretching Aidan open, because he doesn’t want the other to hurt when he is inside him, not tonight.  
“We could leave together”, he repeats, curls his fingers up to search for his lover’s prostate. “Take a plane from here to… to somewhere, just the two of us. No one else.”  
Aidan laughs breathlessly, or at least tries to, before Richard finds what he has been looking for, fingertips calloused from swords and axes and endless days of filming coming to an end rubbing across the small bundle of nerves deep inside him. The laughter turns into another moan, as sweet as the others were, if louder, and Richard stores it away in his memories, together with the way the muscles in Aidan’s shoulders flex when he throws his head back, his lips swollen from kissing and parted.

“You want me to run away with you”, Aidan replies and the words could be teasing but instead, they are loving and gentle and breathless and full of awe and Richard can’t help but lean forward and capture his lover’s lips with his own in a kiss which is all those things as well.  
“Yes”, he breathes out into Aidan’s mouth and feels the younger man nod with only the slightest hint of hesitation. And of course this is nothing but a thought, a fantasy, but Aidan’s agreement still makes his heart beat faster, his breathing quicken. His fingers are still deep inside of Aidan and the other’s hips are stuttering in their rhythm, every breath turned into a moan and Richard understands, because by now, he knows every of the ways Aidan can plead.

He pulls his fingers out and reaches out for the lube, ignoring that he is squeezing out too much on his palm, that he is ruining the sheets once again. The hiss that escapes him at the few sparks of pleasure travelling up his spine when he slicks himself up surprises Richard himself, because sometimes it’s so easy to lose himself in Aidan’s pleasure so completely that he forgets about his own.  
Once more, he leans in and kisses Aidan, because by now, their lips fit together perfectly, trained to respond to the other in the hours upon hours they have spent here, just lying next to each other and finding out what makes the other tick and moan and gasp.

“We could go to Paris”, he says, because Aidan has mentioned that he has always wanted to walk along the Seine in springtime once, but now, the other laughs sweetly, pulls him down for another kiss before letting Richard move back between his legs, hoisting them up above his shoulders.  
“You big, old dork”, Aidan breathes out fondly and shifts slightly, and Richard would kiss him again if he could. Instead, he turns his head and presses his lips against the other’s knee.  
“Or Venice.” Somehow, now he has started, it’s hard to stop talking, at least until Aidan rolls his hips again, and he takes the hint, pushes into his lover with practiced ease.

But no matter how often they do this, it always takes Richard’s breath away like it did that first night, Aidan tight and hot around him, spreading his legs farther apart to let Richard slide deeper inside him. For a moment, they stay like this, both breathing heavily and Aidan’s eyes slip shut as he adjusts to the feeling.  
Richard wants to tell him how much he loves him, but instead he says, “Staying in a small hotel next to the Grand Canal and watching the vaporetti and gondolas and all the people who don’t know us from our bedroom window”.

Aidan laughs again and wraps his arms around Richard’s neck, both pulling him down and giving him permission to move. And he does, without hesitation, slow and shallow thrusts, both because he doesn’t want to cause any pain and because this night doesn’t need roughness or heat or frenzied rutting.  
“Kissing on the Ponte di Rialto”, Aidan whispers against his jaw and at first Richard thinks that the words have fallen from his lips without him noticing, and it’s only when Aidan presses a small kiss on his skin that he realises that Aidan is thinking about it again; the thought makes his hips snap forward with a little more force.  It makes Aidan moan and Richard gasp, because it feels good and it feels right, especially when his lover tangles a hand in his hair, hips meeting Richard’s next thrust.

“We could have coffee on the Piazza San Marco”, Aidan adds and nuzzles his neck, the bites and sucks a mark to Richard’s skin to hold back a moan and make Richard moan instead. “Feed the doves and get our feet wet when the flood comes.”  
He can see it in front of him when he shifts and lifts Aidan’s legs higher, pleasure slowly clouding his mind as the new angle makes it possible to slide deeper inside of the other. And it’s the right angle, too, because Aidan arches off the mattress and into Richard, moaning his name and so Richard takes over, spins their tale a bit further with a breathless voice and hips losing and finding their rhythm again.

“I’d buy you a mask during the carnival and call you my queen.”  
Again, the other laughs and Richard joins in, still smiling as he peppers kisses all over Aidan’s face.  
“We’d visit the Biennale and see if anyone recognised us”, his lover adds, and Richard can tell that he is close by the way his _i_ ’s and _e_ ’s are stretched and almost-moans. He speeds up his thrusts because he wants, no, he needs them to come together.  
“Walk along the Lido and take a hundred photographs.”  
“Throw coins into lagoons to make sure we’ll come back.”  
“Get lost in the small alleys and streets.”  
“Make love while watching the city wake up”, Aidan gasps, moans, breathes against his shoulder and Richard likes how the other says _love_ , all soft and sweet and as if the word alone was precious beyond belief.  
“Let no one ever find us”, Richard replies and reaches out to take Aidan’s hand, intertwining their fingers and holding on as he thrusts into him once more, watches his lover fall apart underneath him slowly.

Aidan moans his name and Richard understands, brings their lips together again, his hips never stilling as his second hand wraps itself around Aidan’s cock, gives two, three sloppy strokes until he is coming, clenching around Richard and pushing him over the edge as well, spilling hot seed deep inside his lover.  
They stay like this for a few more moments, close and safe and  still fused together, listening to each other’s heartbeat until Richard finally finds the strength to pull out of Aidan, roll over so he is lying as close to the other as possible, one hand on Aidan’s hip, the other hand’s fingers still laced together with Aidan’s.  
“Venice, huh?”, the other finally asks and Richard can see the smile on his lips, can hear it in his voice. “Well, I guess we wouldn’t be the first people to change our flights.”

It takes a moment until Richard realises what Aidan has said, two more until he understands what it means and three until the smile has reached his lips, stretching them so wide that it feels as if his face is being split in half. He should ask if Aidan means it, he thinks to himself, but doesn’t, because he doesn’t need the answer; because he knows.  
His fingers tighten around Aidan’s until it should hurt but doesn’t, since nothing which shortens the distance between them could ever hurt. And he pulls  Aidan even closer, until every inch of skin which could be touching is and kisses him, only a brush of lips against lips.  
“Climb the Campanile and have the entire world spread out beneath us”, Richard whispers without pulling away and Aidan smiles against his lips in reply.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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